The Operator

“The little bitch,” Harmony swore, clearly frustrated. “I do not need saving!”

“I know how you feel,” Jack said around a sigh. “But that’s Peri for you.” Opti had ingrained a need for her to put her anchor’s safety before her own, and seeing as Peri had been working with Harmony, the woman now fell into that category. But Jack knew this was more than Opti conditioning. It was just how Peri was.

“I can’t sit and do nothing,” Harmony muttered. “What are we supposed to do?”

Jack turned to the van and opened the door. “Watch the obituaries.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Her arm hurt where the cold metal of the fencing bit deep. Coat bunched up at her elbow, Peri forced her hand farther out through the chain link. Her fingers were losing their feeling from the cold or, more likely, from the lack of circulation as she angled the thin piece of metal into the lock. The “key” was a piece of the chain-link fence, wiggled off with metal fatigue and filed flat on the cement floor. It was only a matter of time before she got the lock picked. Time, though, wasn’t an asset she had.

Worried, she glanced up at the ceiling grate, estimating it to be nearing five or six by the fading light. She had a few hours left before withdrawal became an issue, but she hadn’t heard anything in the last twelve hours or so since the camera Michael had left had run out of battery. No food, no water—she was cold and out of sorts. It was likely someone would come soon if only to taunt her. She almost had it, almost . . .

But her fingers slipped, and the makeshift lock pick fell to the cement floor.

“Damn it!” she hissed, drafting to fix her mistake.

Blue sparkles hazed her vision, and she breathed them in, then out as time reset. Angling her fingers a different way, she maintained her grip on her key, and with a soft and certain click, the lock disengaged.

“Yes!” she hissed as the draft ended, her two-second confusion so brief as to be nonexistent. The key dropped, pinging to the floor, but the lock was open. Adrenaline pulsed through her, and the fencing scraped her arm as she unwedged it. Pulse fast, she picked up the key, tugging her coat sleeve down when the bare-bulb light flicked on, warning Peri before the door screeched open.

The sharp piece of metal went into her jeans pocket as a faint glow of sunlight from the silent manufacture floor spilled over her and Michael came in. He had a briefcase in his hand, his face showing a five o’clock shadow. He was clearly not in the best of moods; his steps were fast and his expression tight. This is so bad for my asthma, she thought, backing from the chain-link fence and praying he didn’t rattle the door to prove it was still locked.

But Michael clearly had other things on his mind as he all but threw the briefcase atop the clutter before the bars. The open door behind him said more than the heavy silence and distant hoot of a train or boat that he was alone, and she stood, feeling the aches the hard floor had given her. She could smell gunpowder on him, and her thoughts went to Harmony.

“There are quicker ways to kill me other than freezing me to death,” she said, finding hope in his bad mood. With some luck, Harmony was gone and safe. Jack, she didn’t care beyond wanting to kill him if he’d told Michael her instructions to get Harmony safe. It didn’t look as if he had. Michael was too pissed for that.

“I’ve got a bullet if you prefer,” he said, and she moved farther from her unlocked door.

“Did they get the accelerator?” she asked innocently.

Michael frowned. Arms over his chest, he stood before her, his long face dark in anger. “Where did you tell Jack to leave it?”

Yes! “I didn’t tell him to leave it anywhere. I told him to get Harmony the hell away from you.” And Jack had. Why? Because it got Jack the hell away from Michael, too? Or had it been more, perhaps?

“You scrawny little nothing!” Michael hit the chain link, and Peri’s eyes flicked to the wiggling door. “You will die here, Reed. You will die in agony. I’ve seen the med wing, and they all died in agony. How long until your next shot? Hours?”

But his fury only filled her with calm. She might die before the sun came up again, but it wasn’t going to be in this cruddy cage. “I told them to run because I already know where the accelerator is, and it isn’t at WEFT.”

He turned his vehement expression to her, dress shoes scraping. “Lies don’t work anymore.”

“Oh, get over yourself.” Peri sauntered closer, feeling powerful despite being in socks and having nothing in her pocket but a sharpened piece of metal. “I told you before, string bean. I don’t care if you get accelerated or not. But asking me to believe that you were going to let Harmony walk away after she made the drop was insulting. I bought her freedom with a few hours is all. I’ll take you there now.”

Michael’s lip twitched. “Where is it?”

Smiling, Peri brushed her coat off. “The same place it’s been for the last twenty-four hours. Get me to my car, and I’ll take you there.”

He laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. Turning his back on her, he picked up the camera, dropping his briefcase in its place. The snap of the fasteners opening was loud, and she wasn’t surprised when he took out a pair of cuffs.

“Put them on,” he said, throwing them to her. They hit the fencing and dropped.

Peri stood unmoving. She’d caught a glimpse of a packaged syringe and a vial in there as well. Evocane. One more dose, and he’ll need it for the accelerator. None for me . . . A sliver of need rose and fell, but it was only a memory—so far.